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this is where you can leave me NSFW prompts or starters for anyone I play!
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. musebox . - call me out / nsfw.
29 September 2017 @ 12:33 pm
call me out / nsfw.
this is where you can leave me NSFW prompts or starters for anyone I play!
• link images
• specify the desired character in the subject line
• forgive the rustiness for 90% of the people I have accounts for
( It takes all too long to learn that a day off doesn't have to be synonymous with total and complete boredom or exhausting herself. But learn it she does, eventually being alright with sleeping through the breaking of dawn, content in bed with a hand lazily trailing its way across Sam's chest. The slow rise from bed long after the alarm's bleeped and the apartment's been bathed in warm sunlight that filters through blinds fluttering in the breeze.
She's spent her entire life always feeling like she has to do something, never allowing herself to stop. Never wanting to be at home because she'll miss the world outside, ignoring the simple beauty that exists in silence, in a small space for two which feels full and vibrant, its pull enough to make her forget the myriad of paths to explore across the city, the errands that only want running rather than need it.
She brushes her teeth, frees her hair from the braid holding it back all night and shakes her head until it tumbles over her shoulders. Nothing planned, no crisis to avert or thoughts of the world setting on fire without her there to do something (okay, so maybe she's always been a bit prone to overestimating the amount of effect she can have on anything, but can you blame a girl), and Kate doesn't mind that. Not when it feels like so much of the world is right here with her.
It isn't exactly a surprise to see that he's rolled out of bed, standing next to the couch as she closes the bathroom door behind her. )
... Hey.
( What can we say, it's a habit. )
She's spent her entire life always feeling like she has to do something, never allowing herself to stop. Never wanting to be at home because she'll miss the world outside, ignoring the simple beauty that exists in silence, in a small space for two which feels full and vibrant, its pull enough to make her forget the myriad of paths to explore across the city, the errands that only want running rather than need it.
She brushes her teeth, frees her hair from the braid holding it back all night and shakes her head until it tumbles over her shoulders. Nothing planned, no crisis to avert or thoughts of the world setting on fire without her there to do something (okay, so maybe she's always been a bit prone to overestimating the amount of effect she can have on anything, but can you blame a girl), and Kate doesn't mind that. Not when it feels like so much of the world is right here with her.
It isn't exactly a surprise to see that he's rolled out of bed, standing next to the couch as she closes the bathroom door behind her. )
... Hey.
( What can we say, it's a habit. )
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hollowly on December 1st, 2017 12:02 am (UTC)yes, naturally, we've been long overdue for something like this
( that's something they have in common, because of course it is; never being allowed to stop, never quite managing to take more than one stunted breath at a time before skittering from one thing to the next, constantly staying in motion for the sake of progress and making themselves useful. it might be a different sort of thing with regard to both of their respective backgrounds, but here they are having managed to meet somewhere in the less hectic middle, spending a morning off sleeping past the break of dawn and waking slowly to the warmth of another body nestled in nice and close.
she's already up when he finally pulls himself up from the depths of sleep, and while she's in the bathroom he makes himself useful by starting the coffee, movements slow but fluid the way they always are when he hasn't had a chance to come around fully. this is so domestic, so normal that he wonders when he's going to snap awake from the dream it feels like this should be, when he's going to open his eyes to an empty spot in his bed and an ache in his heart that is distinctly kate-shaped.
one mug in each hand, he greets her once she's back out in the main room, a slow smile spreading across the line of his mouth as he holds one out in her direction, head tilted to the side in the way it always does when he looks at her, eyes soft, his expression one of the ridiculously enamored. ) Morning.
( sigh, yes. a habit, and it's never going to die. what are words, especially before coffee, anyway? ) Sleep okay?
she's already up when he finally pulls himself up from the depths of sleep, and while she's in the bathroom he makes himself useful by starting the coffee, movements slow but fluid the way they always are when he hasn't had a chance to come around fully. this is so domestic, so normal that he wonders when he's going to snap awake from the dream it feels like this should be, when he's going to open his eyes to an empty spot in his bed and an ache in his heart that is distinctly kate-shaped.
one mug in each hand, he greets her once she's back out in the main room, a slow smile spreading across the line of his mouth as he holds one out in her direction, head tilted to the side in the way it always does when he looks at her, eyes soft, his expression one of the ridiculously enamored. ) Morning.
( sigh, yes. a habit, and it's never going to die. what are words, especially before coffee, anyway? ) Sleep okay?
so have they. ;; let them be happy in this odd little space. - dedikated on December 1st, 2017 12:19 am (UTC) Expand
dedikated on December 1st, 2017 12:19 am (UTC) Expand
what about this one / i've been listening to mamamoo all day so enjoy the 5000 painting references - dedikated on January 4th, 2018 07:38 pm (UTC) Expand
dedikated on January 4th, 2018 07:38 pm (UTC) Expand
that one is even worse and ALL THESE REFERENCES made me smile goodness - hollowly on January 6th, 2018 04:14 am (UTC) Expand
hollowly on January 6th, 2018 04:14 am (UTC) Expand
( The countries here are interesting. So... lacking in technology. Except for this capital city they call Insomnia. Here, Sombra blends in better, though the cybernetic implants running along the side of her head, crawling down her neck to meet the ones across her spine, still draw glances.
It's fine, though, because she has a phone. One that's almost as useable as a phone back home. There are apps, email. The internet. A wealth of information at her fingertips, giving her everything she needs to learn about the city, its royal family and retainers-
And a few interesting tidbits about crystals and magic. Nothing that could really be used for blackmail, not yet. So instead, Sombra takes to bars, picks up a job at an exclusive little place not too far from the palace - the kind of place that uses way too much blue light and charges 30% more than the usual for a cocktail because it comes with dry ice and makes a fancy smokeshow when it's served. Stupid, because what's wrong with a simple whiskey on the rocks, but the pay's good and she gets enough gossip from the people who come in and order drinks that it makes up for the lack of any real information found online so far.
And then, there's a woman. Someone she only sees once or twice, whose name rings bells and whose appearance-
Sombra's priority at the moment might be finding a way to make the right friends, but she's not blind, okay? Besides. The woman's part of one of the families close to the royal bloodline. It's a win-win situation. All she has to do is flirt a little, get her number.
And one day, Gladio will find a text waiting for her: )
Hey, amiga.
I was just wondering... when are we gonna hook up?
( Who has time to beat around the bush? )
It's fine, though, because she has a phone. One that's almost as useable as a phone back home. There are apps, email. The internet. A wealth of information at her fingertips, giving her everything she needs to learn about the city, its royal family and retainers-
And a few interesting tidbits about crystals and magic. Nothing that could really be used for blackmail, not yet. So instead, Sombra takes to bars, picks up a job at an exclusive little place not too far from the palace - the kind of place that uses way too much blue light and charges 30% more than the usual for a cocktail because it comes with dry ice and makes a fancy smokeshow when it's served. Stupid, because what's wrong with a simple whiskey on the rocks, but the pay's good and she gets enough gossip from the people who come in and order drinks that it makes up for the lack of any real information found online so far.
And then, there's a woman. Someone she only sees once or twice, whose name rings bells and whose appearance-
Sombra's priority at the moment might be finding a way to make the right friends, but she's not blind, okay? Besides. The woman's part of one of the families close to the royal bloodline. It's a win-win situation. All she has to do is flirt a little, get her number.
And one day, Gladio will find a text waiting for her: )
Hey, amiga.
I was just wondering... when are we gonna hook up?
( Who has time to beat around the bush? )
( honestly, girl. you need to sort out your priorities — and having a certain level of tech should never be one of them. ( coming … from a pretty low-tech gal herself this is, of course, moot, but. it's also neither here nor there in the larger scheme of things. )
she's observant, and not so naive in her position with the royal family to think that no one anywhere would potentially use her standing to gather tidbits of info, but you know what? she's pretty tight-lipped when it comes to matters that never extend beyond the reach of the palace walls, or hell, even beyond the citadel itself, but. she's young, and she's got a couple of free nights here and there to spend at a local place that charges entirely too much for its drinks, and she's had an eye on the pretty thing that sometimes serves those drinks for long enough to merit giving over those digits.
time will see which way this goes, so in the meantime, there's nothing wrong at all with having a little bit of fun. some people don't get enough of that in their lives. ( insert some joke about some nerd advisor here, if you'd like. )
she's coming out of a training session with the crowned prince when she gets the text notif on her phone, and once she makes some idle threats in noct's general direction about taking his training seriously for once in his godsdamned life she brings up the conversation, reads the question and can't quite stop the spread of a smirk across the line of her mouth. )
Don't waste any time, do you?
( oh, but gladio, do you? )
she's observant, and not so naive in her position with the royal family to think that no one anywhere would potentially use her standing to gather tidbits of info, but you know what? she's pretty tight-lipped when it comes to matters that never extend beyond the reach of the palace walls, or hell, even beyond the citadel itself, but. she's young, and she's got a couple of free nights here and there to spend at a local place that charges entirely too much for its drinks, and she's had an eye on the pretty thing that sometimes serves those drinks for long enough to merit giving over those digits.
time will see which way this goes, so in the meantime, there's nothing wrong at all with having a little bit of fun. some people don't get enough of that in their lives. ( insert some joke about some nerd advisor here, if you'd like. )
she's coming out of a training session with the crowned prince when she gets the text notif on her phone, and once she makes some idle threats in noct's general direction about taking his training seriously for once in his godsdamned life she brings up the conversation, reads the question and can't quite stop the spread of a smirk across the line of her mouth. )
Don't waste any time, do you?
( oh, but gladio, do you? )
![two](https://i.imgur.com/wxLYD7e.jpg"){kind=link}
( Noctis loves the night. Not the daemons, the danger, or Gladio's half hour explanations of why camping is so good, but the night. The silence that casts over everything, dots of light across the near-black expanse of land and sky that draw their own roads across the country. There's a stillness that isn't found in the day, when people are pulling him in a million directions as, he supposes, now King of Insomnia. The title still feels odd to think, like the first time a kid plays dress up in their parents' shoes - stumbling along in something far too large.
And now the night holds more than just the break from Specs lecturing him on being in bed. There's an air of childish desire that, every night he closes his eyes, he might be able to wake up to someone saying that it was all a bad practical joke. That his dad's alive and Insomnia is whole.
Tonight, the sky is dusted with foggy clouds, thin curtains letting in a stream of blinding floodlight, so much so that their motel room light is pretty much pointless. Noct fiddles with the hand of cards he has, fanning them out and rearranging them idly as he looks at the cards Prompto's laid out.
A lazy smirk - of course it's lazy, who do you think he is? - crosses his lips before placing his hand down. )
I win. Again.
( Boom.
And this is the other thing Noctis loves: the constellations smattered across Prompto's face, the sheer ease of his expression as it flickers from one emotion to the next. The fact that his win isn't because Prompto wants to keep royalty happy, but simply because he sucks at cards.
Noctis loves the night because it feels like a break from being The Prince, or The King, but there's a flash of sunlight that's stood fast by his side for years which does the same. )
And now the night holds more than just the break from Specs lecturing him on being in bed. There's an air of childish desire that, every night he closes his eyes, he might be able to wake up to someone saying that it was all a bad practical joke. That his dad's alive and Insomnia is whole.
Tonight, the sky is dusted with foggy clouds, thin curtains letting in a stream of blinding floodlight, so much so that their motel room light is pretty much pointless. Noct fiddles with the hand of cards he has, fanning them out and rearranging them idly as he looks at the cards Prompto's laid out.
A lazy smirk - of course it's lazy, who do you think he is? - crosses his lips before placing his hand down. )
I win. Again.
( Boom.
And this is the other thing Noctis loves: the constellations smattered across Prompto's face, the sheer ease of his expression as it flickers from one emotion to the next. The fact that his win isn't because Prompto wants to keep royalty happy, but simply because he sucks at cards.
Noctis loves the night because it feels like a break from being The Prince, or The King, but there's a flash of sunlight that's stood fast by his side for years which does the same. )
photoop on December 6th, 2017 08:35 am (UTC)oh yeah no THIS IS TOTALLY FINE i'm still upset about constellations
( realistically speaking, prompto had never … really thought much about the night before they'd ventured outside the safety of insomnia; it's dark, and sometimes it's cold, and more often than not it brings a certain level of lonely detachment from the rest of the world that lingers until morning comes, and he would ( again, more often than not ) feel himself displaced. from everything and everyone else.
that had been, of course, before he had finally worked up the courage to say a word to the crown prince in the first place. before he had worked hard to mold himself into the sort of person he felt would be worth noct's time, someone that could keep up with him and keep him company just as easily as the blond himself could be kept, and sometimes. sometimes he still thinks that he's not going to be able to stack up, to keep up in terms of what noctis needs, what he wants in a friend or a companion or. whatever else.
( he contents himself with just. being near him. around him. soaking up the presence of the one labeled the brat prince by his shield, that one that smirks more often than he really smiles, because it would mean giving too much away to the ones that are supposed to see you as. well. indestructible. )
this is why something as normal and downright mundane as playing cards is so important to him; to find them both relaxed, as comfortable and carefree in the early evening as they had been when they were still in high school, when all noctis had to worry about was preparing for their upcoming exams, and all prompto had to worry about was not being left behind. ( ah, but wait just a second here — )
he tosses down his hand of cards and flops back dramatically at i win, sighing out an entirely over-exaggerated huff and draping an arm over his face, like he's given up, he's finished, because there is absolutely no way in the world he could beat the prince ofsass pain ( ™ ) at cards.
it doesn't help that he's utterly hopeless at keeping anything close to a poker face. the constellations mapped out across his face give him away every single time. ) That's four times in a row, Noct. I'm starting to think you're cheating. ( he peeks out from under his arm to see where that gets him, even if he's sure it won't be very far. )
that had been, of course, before he had finally worked up the courage to say a word to the crown prince in the first place. before he had worked hard to mold himself into the sort of person he felt would be worth noct's time, someone that could keep up with him and keep him company just as easily as the blond himself could be kept, and sometimes. sometimes he still thinks that he's not going to be able to stack up, to keep up in terms of what noctis needs, what he wants in a friend or a companion or. whatever else.
( he contents himself with just. being near him. around him. soaking up the presence of the one labeled the brat prince by his shield, that one that smirks more often than he really smiles, because it would mean giving too much away to the ones that are supposed to see you as. well. indestructible. )
this is why something as normal and downright mundane as playing cards is so important to him; to find them both relaxed, as comfortable and carefree in the early evening as they had been when they were still in high school, when all noctis had to worry about was preparing for their upcoming exams, and all prompto had to worry about was not being left behind. ( ah, but wait just a second here — )
he tosses down his hand of cards and flops back dramatically at i win, sighing out an entirely over-exaggerated huff and draping an arm over his face, like he's given up, he's finished, because there is absolutely no way in the world he could beat the prince of
it doesn't help that he's utterly hopeless at keeping anything close to a poker face. the constellations mapped out across his face give him away every single time. ) That's four times in a row, Noct. I'm starting to think you're cheating. ( he peeks out from under his arm to see where that gets him, even if he's sure it won't be very far. )
( The alias she uses tonight doesn't really matter, because by the fifth drink and the sixth time she's rolled her eyes at something that's popped up on one of the many phones she's already hacked, Sombra's declared this night a total bust. Mission Failed, sorry 'bout it. She can only do so much when political aides want nothing more than to spend their Friday night discussing the dick they did or didn't get over the week. So she slips off the stool she's been camping all night, tosses a few notes on the bar without really looking at the amount she's given out (enjoy the tip, bartender, it's all Talon funds anyway) and rakes nails through her hair. She may as well go somewhere quieter, less prone to enticing the attentions of 20 year olds who were given too much money from daddy, and drink herself into a hangover there.
Or perhaps—
This night was a total bust on the information front, but less so on snaring the clothes of a face she keeps seeing around, being pressed into close quarters by nothing but a crowd and the darkness that envelopes places like this: everywhere the light doesn't hit a private sphere between two people, music too loud to hear anyone's conversations, too much alcohol in anyone's system to care about the presence of others. )
You leaving?
( Sure, maybe he just got here but there's a hand clinging to fabric and breath against his jawline as she speaks, and it's less of a question than it is a suggestion. A suggestion that, perhaps, they stop with the brief encounters that lead nowhere and make this night something worthwhile. )
Or perhaps—
This night was a total bust on the information front, but less so on snaring the clothes of a face she keeps seeing around, being pressed into close quarters by nothing but a crowd and the darkness that envelopes places like this: everywhere the light doesn't hit a private sphere between two people, music too loud to hear anyone's conversations, too much alcohol in anyone's system to care about the presence of others. )
You leaving?
( Sure, maybe he just got here but there's a hand clinging to fabric and breath against his jawline as she speaks, and it's less of a question than it is a suggestion. A suggestion that, perhaps, they stop with the brief encounters that lead nowhere and make this night something worthwhile. )
( Serah quickly turns her place into a home, adds touches of life and colour to provided furniture and blank walls with whatever she finds in the stores. Pieces of fabric that turn into curtains, into wall hangings and get draped over the couch. In truth, she might have gone a little bit crazy, but she's never truly had a place of her own before; first it was living with Lightning, then sharing the accommodations at NORA house. Not that any of that was bad, but there's something to be said for having no one but yourself to accommodate.
And things are so often difficult here that the decorating becomes kind of a method of stress relief. Somewhere bright and safe, somewhere she can use as a base and to help the kids stuck in this mess.
(More so than any amount of eclectic decorating, Serah's place is covered in stationery and papers that are neatly stacked, ready for lessons or marking or whatever else she can do as a teacher here.)
She gets used to her house having people in it - students, friends, anyone really. In that way, it feels a lot like New Bodhum, like NORA house with all the backs and forths and comings and goings. It feels busy and alive, and it becomes easier to live in a place which isn't her own.
Easier still, when hearts flutter and there's an arm wrapped around her waist, warm and solid and holding her close. Giggles bubble up reflexively and the world outside seems to melt away, time all but irrelevant for the moment Serah feels herself sunk back onto the couch, her arms loose around Noctis' shoulders as quick kisses turn into lingering brushes of lips, her legs clinging to his waist.
Decorations may make this place feel more homely, but he turns it into something warm, something real. )
And things are so often difficult here that the decorating becomes kind of a method of stress relief. Somewhere bright and safe, somewhere she can use as a base and to help the kids stuck in this mess.
(More so than any amount of eclectic decorating, Serah's place is covered in stationery and papers that are neatly stacked, ready for lessons or marking or whatever else she can do as a teacher here.)
She gets used to her house having people in it - students, friends, anyone really. In that way, it feels a lot like New Bodhum, like NORA house with all the backs and forths and comings and goings. It feels busy and alive, and it becomes easier to live in a place which isn't her own.
Easier still, when hearts flutter and there's an arm wrapped around her waist, warm and solid and holding her close. Giggles bubble up reflexively and the world outside seems to melt away, time all but irrelevant for the moment Serah feels herself sunk back onto the couch, her arms loose around Noctis' shoulders as quick kisses turn into lingering brushes of lips, her legs clinging to his waist.
Decorations may make this place feel more homely, but he turns it into something warm, something real. )
[ Every time Noctis visits, there's definitely something more, something different -- a little bit of the impersonal space made her own. For such a petite young woman, Serah sure has no problem owning her space, filling it up with everything about her that for a blessed few moments, it's easy to forget that they're trapped here at the whim of gods, at the mercy of whatever they see fit to dream up next.
Serah's place is an oasis of peace in a world that's shaping up to be just as dangerous as the world he's from, and she is a lovely, beautiful positive soul in a place prone to encourage cynicism and despair more than anything else. Noctis is charmed, impossibly so -- there are glimpses of Luna in her, but not enough that he would mistake Serah for her. Serah, generous but firm, affectionate and real and alive and who actually likes him for reasons Noctis still can't get, is a whole different story. He's learning to be himself around her -- a constant work in progress, he has to add, but falling in love, well, that one's quite easy.
He's pinning her down onto the couch now, the comfortable leather no match for the warmth of her body in his arms, when she kisses him back, every one of them sweeter than the last until Noctis consciously deepens it, languid and slow as he tastes her, curling into her arms.
This is something real, something worth fighting for, worth having, and his next kiss is more deliberate, more heated, a hand sliding down the side of her sleekly lean frame to rest on her hip. Nothing else matters but this moment, heady and light and hurtling towards budding desire. Nothing else matters but the way she's holding on to him. ]
Serah's place is an oasis of peace in a world that's shaping up to be just as dangerous as the world he's from, and she is a lovely, beautiful positive soul in a place prone to encourage cynicism and despair more than anything else. Noctis is charmed, impossibly so -- there are glimpses of Luna in her, but not enough that he would mistake Serah for her. Serah, generous but firm, affectionate and real and alive and who actually likes him for reasons Noctis still can't get, is a whole different story. He's learning to be himself around her -- a constant work in progress, he has to add, but falling in love, well, that one's quite easy.
He's pinning her down onto the couch now, the comfortable leather no match for the warmth of her body in his arms, when she kisses him back, every one of them sweeter than the last until Noctis consciously deepens it, languid and slow as he tastes her, curling into her arms.
This is something real, something worth fighting for, worth having, and his next kiss is more deliberate, more heated, a hand sliding down the side of her sleekly lean frame to rest on her hip. Nothing else matters but this moment, heady and light and hurtling towards budding desire. Nothing else matters but the way she's holding on to him. ]
iiii thought i was logged into this journal oops - odinbolt on February 22nd, 2018 08:32 am (UTC) Expand
odinbolt on February 22nd, 2018 08:32 am (UTC) Expand
odinbolt on January 24th, 2018 11:07 am (UTC)aren't restraints those things you use to tie someone up...
( How many times have they watched this show now? Too many, really. Serah's sure she can repeat the lines in her sleep. But it lets them curl up in bed together, laptop tossed haphazardly on the edge of the bed and Serah's head resting on Noctis' shoulder, her fingers running up and down his chest idly.
The theme song kicks up for the penultimate episode of the season, but her eyes haven't been on the screen for a while now, a chorus of strings echoing through her bedroom as she presses a kiss to the side of Noctis' neck and lifts herself up, crawling on top of him with that smile that's there more often than not nowadays. More soft, light kisses are dropped onto his lips, his cheeks, the tip of his nose. She knows this episode like she knows his body by now, but they're both as sweet as the first time she ever discovered them.
So maybe, maybe she mouths the side character's joke as she pulls back from a kiss, and maybe that's a sign she's seen this show too much. But it's comforting, like an old blanket or the warmth of her boyfriend's body underneath hers. )
The theme song kicks up for the penultimate episode of the season, but her eyes haven't been on the screen for a while now, a chorus of strings echoing through her bedroom as she presses a kiss to the side of Noctis' neck and lifts herself up, crawling on top of him with that smile that's there more often than not nowadays. More soft, light kisses are dropped onto his lips, his cheeks, the tip of his nose. She knows this episode like she knows his body by now, but they're both as sweet as the first time she ever discovered them.
So maybe, maybe she mouths the side character's joke as she pulls back from a kiss, and maybe that's a sign she's seen this show too much. But it's comforting, like an old blanket or the warmth of her boyfriend's body underneath hers. )
[ They've probably watched this at least five, six times -- it's a personal favorite, and he had been pleased to know that Serah enjoyed it, too; it's light-hearted, fun, peppered with relationships they've both had discussions at length about, and sometimes Noctis likes to make a game out of eating her out during one of her more favorite episodes just because he can, feeling the hitch of her breath and the shift of her body when his tongue rubs up just right, lapping her up with a cheeky warmth when she comes just before the credits roll.
He loves these moments with her, when the episodes are a welcome background noise and he basks in his affection for her, caught up in the sweetness of her smile, the warmth of her touch. They've come a long way, he thinks, and barring his duties back at the Citadel he's free to do as he likes in his apartment -- and Serah, Serah is a reminder of a life he's always wanted to live: normal, dating the girl of his dreams, and actually getting to be happy.
Softly chuckling when she mouths the joke he's heard so many times before, he's pulling her close, idle fingers coming to unsnap her pretty, lacy bra from behind, easy as you please. ] I think we should start banning underwear, too, when we're in bed like this. [ His lips find her lips, drawing her into another slow, lazy kiss. ] Makes it easier to get to you.
He loves these moments with her, when the episodes are a welcome background noise and he basks in his affection for her, caught up in the sweetness of her smile, the warmth of her touch. They've come a long way, he thinks, and barring his duties back at the Citadel he's free to do as he likes in his apartment -- and Serah, Serah is a reminder of a life he's always wanted to live: normal, dating the girl of his dreams, and actually getting to be happy.
Softly chuckling when she mouths the joke he's heard so many times before, he's pulling her close, idle fingers coming to unsnap her pretty, lacy bra from behind, easy as you please. ] I think we should start banning underwear, too, when we're in bed like this. [ His lips find her lips, drawing her into another slow, lazy kiss. ] Makes it easier to get to you.
[Ignis has always found it difficult to say 'no' to Kate. It isn't through a lack of will or confidence on his part, though, but more that the things she suggests are often ones that he simply doesn't want to refuse. Even in bed, somewhere that his own experience is by far eclipsed by her own, he still finds that this habit holds true.
Barely an hour ago she had been sat in his lap, halfway through driving him to utter distraction, his shirt already off while his fingers pulled at hers. She had made a suggestion, five words breathed into his ear while he pressed his lips to her bare shoulder, already lit on the waves of pure desire for her and everything she would offer to him. He had looked at her, surprised and a fraction unsure, judging her level of sincerity in her suggestion while she smiled a challenge back at him.
Barely an hour ago, he had agreed to try something with her that had never crossed his mind before, and now--]
Oh-- Gods- [His voice comes out soft and strained, the words almost a moan as he presses one hand to the wall in front of him, his head dipping low enough to almost touch the pillow under it. It starts as a stinging pressure, developing to an aching fullness that her gently exploring fingers could not match. He holds his breath without realising it until he feels her hips lying flush against him, then lets it out in a rush.
His heartbeat pounds in his ears, eyes shut as he shifts restlessly and groans quietly at the sensation. Sweat springs up across his forehead and along the curve of his spine, and he tries in vain to level his breathing out more surely than the quivering in his chest will allow.]
-- Fuck.
[He whispers (whimpers) instead, his fingers clenching tightly against the edge of the mattress. His hips roll subtly back against her and he bites hard against his lower lip, barely subduing another gasp.]
Barely an hour ago she had been sat in his lap, halfway through driving him to utter distraction, his shirt already off while his fingers pulled at hers. She had made a suggestion, five words breathed into his ear while he pressed his lips to her bare shoulder, already lit on the waves of pure desire for her and everything she would offer to him. He had looked at her, surprised and a fraction unsure, judging her level of sincerity in her suggestion while she smiled a challenge back at him.
Barely an hour ago, he had agreed to try something with her that had never crossed his mind before, and now--]
Oh-- Gods- [His voice comes out soft and strained, the words almost a moan as he presses one hand to the wall in front of him, his head dipping low enough to almost touch the pillow under it. It starts as a stinging pressure, developing to an aching fullness that her gently exploring fingers could not match. He holds his breath without realising it until he feels her hips lying flush against him, then lets it out in a rush.
His heartbeat pounds in his ears, eyes shut as he shifts restlessly and groans quietly at the sensation. Sweat springs up across his forehead and along the curve of his spine, and he tries in vain to level his breathing out more surely than the quivering in his chest will allow.]
-- Fuck.
[He whispers (whimpers) instead, his fingers clenching tightly against the edge of the mattress. His hips roll subtly back against her and he bites hard against his lower lip, barely subduing another gasp.]
( It's a question asked of her own curiosity as well as desire. Something she's never had the opportunity to try despite everything, that's always lingered at the back of her mind as a one day. One day there might be a man she wants to suggest this to. And it's always been so comfortable with Ignis that it feels as natural to ask him as anything else.
So, here they are, where her touches have been gentle in a way that's more careful than teasing. Her hips move slow, easy, hands slip-sliding across his back as she leans over and presses kisses to whatever bits of skin she can reach. Fingers slide from shoulders to hips, curling into skin as she rests there, listening to his gasps and moans.
And slowly, just as patiently as before, her hips shift again, pulling back as her grip gets just that little bit tighter against him and her lips purse together to bite back a gentle noise as she straightens up.
He even manages to look beautiful here, on all fours like some sort of offering, trembling slightly. And so, the next press of her hips back inside him is a little bit smoother, not waiting so much to let him adjust.
But for once, she's hardly in a rush. )
So, here they are, where her touches have been gentle in a way that's more careful than teasing. Her hips move slow, easy, hands slip-sliding across his back as she leans over and presses kisses to whatever bits of skin she can reach. Fingers slide from shoulders to hips, curling into skin as she rests there, listening to his gasps and moans.
And slowly, just as patiently as before, her hips shift again, pulling back as her grip gets just that little bit tighter against him and her lips purse together to bite back a gentle noise as she straightens up.
He even manages to look beautiful here, on all fours like some sort of offering, trembling slightly. And so, the next press of her hips back inside him is a little bit smoother, not waiting so much to let him adjust.
But for once, she's hardly in a rush. )
[Iseul isn't scared that they still haven't found her hat.
She's terrified.
Like this entire situation isn't bad enough, the Whisperer's gift (???? to her had to go and disappear, or someone absconded with it, whichever. Probably the Giver's work, which makes it even worse.
Soomin and Eunji are out imvestigating. In their small, very unprestigious hotel room, it's just Youngil with her now, another victim of the Giver's bullshit. Awesome night. Awesome quest. Iseul can't go outside without the hat; she has too many fans. So her friends form a rotating guard.
Good thing she has no voice right now. That alone could get her caught.
But damn she's restless. Pacing, cold and hot because the heating system in the room is garbage. She needs a distraction.
She scribbles a message on a piece of paper and holds it in front of Youngil.]
Let's order delivery. :(
She's terrified.
Like this entire situation isn't bad enough, the Whisperer's gift (???? to her had to go and disappear, or someone absconded with it, whichever. Probably the Giver's work, which makes it even worse.
Soomin and Eunji are out imvestigating. In their small, very unprestigious hotel room, it's just Youngil with her now, another victim of the Giver's bullshit. Awesome night. Awesome quest. Iseul can't go outside without the hat; she has too many fans. So her friends form a rotating guard.
Good thing she has no voice right now. That alone could get her caught.
But damn she's restless. Pacing, cold and hot because the heating system in the room is garbage. She needs a distraction.
She scribbles a message on a piece of paper and holds it in front of Youngil.]
Let's order delivery. :(
( Youngil offers to stay with Iseul immediately, as soon as she sees the shift in the other woman's eyes. So they agree to a rotating system with Youngil taking first watch. And thus, she spends the evening peeking out of the worn curtains down to the dimly lit street of their hotel. It lacks the glitz and glam of something like Iseul's apartment, but the beds are clean and the spiderwebs have been dusted away.
It might not make the top ten of places Iseul has slept, but Youngil appreciates a bed and the relative privacy. A space shared with friends instead of a contingent of whoever's on the streets tonight.
Her attention turns back to Iseul just in time to get the message thrust at her face and Youngil chances one more glance outside with a frown. )
You sure?
( Fuck The Giver, fuck The Giver and his fucking monopoly on everything for making her even ask that question when her stomach growls loudly enough to be heard.
Ugh. He's not getting in the way of takeaway. )
... Pizza?
It might not make the top ten of places Iseul has slept, but Youngil appreciates a bed and the relative privacy. A space shared with friends instead of a contingent of whoever's on the streets tonight.
Her attention turns back to Iseul just in time to get the message thrust at her face and Youngil chances one more glance outside with a frown. )
You sure?
( Fuck The Giver, fuck The Giver and his fucking monopoly on everything for making her even ask that question when her stomach growls loudly enough to be heard.
Ugh. He's not getting in the way of takeaway. )
... Pizza?
[When Youngil's stomach growls, Iseul shoots her a look that says oh come on. (She's gettinf a lot of practice at nonverbal communication. ... she really hopes they find her hat soon.)
More scribbles.]
ok
or we can ask Soo and Eunji? It's safer.
[Please don't leave Iseul here by herself.]
More scribbles.]
ok
or we can ask Soo and Eunji? It's safer.
[Please don't leave Iseul here by herself.]
( They're just two girls who meet in the right place at the right time. Who exchange words and flirt enough to know the other's interested. They twist themselves into something that ends in heavy breathing and limbs light with post-orgasmic bliss, the kind of thing that leaves Kate hanging around to catch her breath and recharge her energy instead of leaving immediately after.
Shame J doesn't live closer, but Kate travels a lot. She comes back enough to keep enjoying the burning off of energy and the trembling of thighs beside her face.
The idea - like everything in this fling, these casual meetups, and every good idea - is born of alcohol and dark eyes raking over J's body. A notion whispered into her ear in a quiet corner of a crappy bar before Kate gets up and leaves, the spare card to a hotel room left underneath the money she drops on the table for her drinks. She needs some time to get ready for this. Time to strip off her jeans and hoodie and brush out the cascades of pink hair. Her lingerie - black, strappy things which settle nicely on the curve of her hips - does just fine for this. As does the box of toys hidden in the backpack she has for this stay in the hotel.
It wasn't exactly planned, but you never know who you run into when you're around, or what they'll be up for.
She waits five minutes, sat on a crappy hotel chair like it's a throne, one leg crossed over the other as she opens her phone's camera and takes a picture to send. )
You coming? I'm getting bored.
Shame J doesn't live closer, but Kate travels a lot. She comes back enough to keep enjoying the burning off of energy and the trembling of thighs beside her face.
The idea - like everything in this fling, these casual meetups, and every good idea - is born of alcohol and dark eyes raking over J's body. A notion whispered into her ear in a quiet corner of a crappy bar before Kate gets up and leaves, the spare card to a hotel room left underneath the money she drops on the table for her drinks. She needs some time to get ready for this. Time to strip off her jeans and hoodie and brush out the cascades of pink hair. Her lingerie - black, strappy things which settle nicely on the curve of her hips - does just fine for this. As does the box of toys hidden in the backpack she has for this stay in the hotel.
It wasn't exactly planned, but you never know who you run into when you're around, or what they'll be up for.
She waits five minutes, sat on a crappy hotel chair like it's a throne, one leg crossed over the other as she opens her phone's camera and takes a picture to send. )
You coming? I'm getting bored.